


Forever

by Moiranna



Series: 50 themes - Vergil & Dante [18]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, angst all around, writer tries her hand at fluff and fails miserably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 16:20:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7470675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moiranna/pseuds/Moiranna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thought of marriage had never crossed Dante's mind. That thing was for humans and those who stood a chance at a peaceful life... Normalcy, for lack of a better term. A hunter would only face death and horror. Maybe attending a wedding would bring him some reprieve from the darkness in his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Theme: #26 – Forever

A wedding? The invitation had come out of the blue, but maybe that was because Dante hadn't been paying attention, too caught up in missions and catching up on lost naps that the goings on in the world just faded into the periphery. Hell, he hardly knew who was president these days.

The prospect of ever getting married had never occurred to the red-clad halfbreed, that kind of stability was far beyond what he'd ever be able to attain. His life was too dangerous, too insane what with death always a hair’s breadth away from taking him away. Pleasure was something he'd learned to take and to show others, and sure, he loved every partner that came into his life in his own way, but to let anyone truly inside was something that never happened. It was just too dangerous. People were nothing but cannon fodder, it was just a matter of how long it took until they became that.

Besides, there was nobody around that could ever serve as the one person he'd want to spend the rest of his unnaturally long life with. The only one filling that criteria was far beyond the mortal realm and by all standards of the word an impossible equation.

With the few humans who actually knew him there were understandably very few invitations to such events, and the ones he received he never attended. This one, however, he'd make an exception to. After all, it was a family affair.

But being on time wasn’t really Dante’s schtick, he knew that by the time he neared he was just minutes away from the shindig starting so he just snuck in through one of the side-entrances, surprised by the amount of people in the small church. A quick glance around showed him a familiar blond and brunette head, and unerringly his gaze shifted to the young man up by the altar who nervously fidgeted with his light-blue tie. Against everything Dante cracked a wry grin, because in moments like these Nero reminded him too much of himself at that age and not at all of his brother, though he supposed that the neat-freak thing was more Vergil speaking. Oh, he knew that Nero half had wanted him to stand there next to him in a tuxedo as a groomsman, but the partial devil hadn't asked, and Dante hadn't offered. Instead he opted to head up the stairs to the balcony and lean his side against the wall, observing the church-hall from above. There must have been some movement he'd done that made Nero's head snap up towards him and Dante gave a little two-finger salute in regards to it. “Good luck, kid,” he murmured. The youngster obviously heard him because there was a brief but sharp grin from the white-haired man. That light-blue gaze showed a warmth which spoke of that he really was where he wanted to be even though at the same time the thought of what he was about to do terrified him out of his skull. A short nod from Dante, wordlessly letting him know that he was there for him, and then Nero's gaze returned to flit around the hall, though there was a certain level of calm to his movements now.

They still hadn't had _the talk_ which Dante had anticipated would come at some point. Nero had never asked him about his parentage, even though Dante had known who his father was the very instant he saw the other Trigger. Oh, to be fair he had suspected it from the second he saw the white-haired young man, the many pieces of the puzzle that had been collecting over the years finally adding up, but the Trigger had confirmed it all and he'd found his mouth drier than ashes that half-second before his mind comprehended that no, this wasn't his twin back from the grave.

Funny enough he suspected that Nero thought that Dante was his father, and to be quite fair, out of the twins the younger son of Sparda was the more likely suspect what with his, ah, _wild_ teenage years. The truth wasn’t quite as entertaining. Dante had seen all too well that death came to those around him, and was probably more cautious than most people regarding his… _endeavours_. In reality it had been his twin who wanted to continue the legacy, to bring in a new era. The outcome - the Temen-ni-gru, a city laid almost in ruins and nothing but debris and brokenness.

Muscular arms crossed over his chest as _that_ particular memory sparked again, and he made himself look down at the ensemble, and there was a certain level of fondness in Dante’s smile as he heard his nephew’s heart skip a beat as the wide doors opened and the organ started playing, and yes, the red devil could actually pick up when the muscle forgot its proper pace as the slender white-clad woman stepped through.

For a few minutes he focused on the scene downstairs, but soon his mind started drifting, because just like Dante didn’t like to look in a mirror for too long there would be small movements or subconscious gestures that Nero did which sent jolts of pain down Dante’s spine.

Oh, Dante could pretend that the feelings from all those years ago were gone and buried under the rubble of the Temen-ni-gru but he knew that he was just fooling himself. What had happened inside that tower; pain, blood splattering the walls, bodies pressing against the crumblings pillars, sharp biting kisses, wet sounds echoing through archways, desperate scrambling for purchase – they were all in the past. Knew that the unions that had happened in between trying to kill one another – though they both knew that they couldn't deliver that final blow; it had been spoken with every clash of steel, of their frustrations, their hatred, their love, their misery with one another.

They had known even then that what they had could never be forever, that cards had been dealt which could not be folded away - this was the last give. That the gouges into skin and panted gasps were just… in the discard pile. Things never voiced out loud, forgotten. No, not forgotten - that would imply that relief was possible, the dealer had been exchanged and the cards replaced, the old ones burned.

Down by the altar two youngsters swore that forever would be a certainty, nervously laughing as hands trembled with wedding rings. _Yes_ , Dante thought wryly. Maybe today would bring a forever. Yesterday hadn’t, but with the love shining in light-blue eyes he figured that nothing was impossible.


End file.
